


Cold Mirrors

by Emma



Series: The Queen's Magicians [18]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-16
Updated: 2013-03-15
Packaged: 2017-12-05 10:49:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/722209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emma/pseuds/Emma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Toshiko is drawn into a web of lust and murder... This is <em>Adam</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> _Because no one has more thirst for earth, for blood, and for ferocious sexuality than the creatures who inhabit cold mirrors_ Alejandra Pizarnik
> 
> In my grandfather's day, like today, it was not unusual for a man to make a remark to a woman passing by. Unlike those of today, the abuelo's piropos were witty, funny, and daring. _Si la belleza fuese pecado, no tendrías perdón de Dios_ , means _if beauty were a sin, God could never forgive you_.

Tosh gave the ginger cat a final pat. _I'm bored too but I have to attend this. Human business._ She giggled at his contemptuous hiss. _Look for me later. There's always food left over._

“Oye, niña, si la belleza fuese pecado, no tendrías perdón de Dios.”

Toshiko whirled, throwing her arms around the grinning man standing behind her. “Manuel! It's so good to see you!”

Strong arms lifted her off her feet. “Toshiko, beautiful Toshiko. Your nasty Welsh boss finally let you out of Cardiff, did he?”

“He is not nasty and he is a Scot,” she retorted, pushing on his shoulders until he set her down. “And where is Anamaria?”

“Right here,” said an amused voice. “Watching the two of you make a spectacle of yourselves. Though I will admit that Manuel is right. You are looking quite stunning tonight.”

Tosh made a mocking little courtsey. “Praise from the expert is praise indeed. How were the Paris shows?”

“Boring. Crowded. Filled with starved-looking starlets aspiring to become belles horizontales, and failing miserably.” Anamaria waved the whole fashion society scene away. “But you! Manolito tells me you're presenting a paper that has the whole conference buzzing. And wearing clothes like those! Who is your designer and why haven't I heard of him?”

“Her name is Rhiannon Crandell and she's not a designer, she's a painter. Designing clothes is her way of relaxing.”

Anamaria gave an experienced once-over to Tosh's chic Egyptian blue sheath with the plunging back and the embroidered and beaded design of peacock's feathers wrapping around the waist and hip. “She's in the wrong business. Speaking of which, have you seen Kathy Vaughan yet?”

“No, I haven't.”

“Well, my dear, she's shown up with Adam Kingsmark!”

Tosh frowned. “Who?”

“Don't you remember him? No, I suppose you wouldn't. He wasn't one of the geek brigade. Romance Literatures. Tall, blond, not great looking but interesting to talk to and with a reputation for knowing exactly how to make a girl really happy.”

“Ladies,” Manuel said, “I hate to interrupt the gossip fest, but Professor Brown is coming in this direction. Toshiko, my love, you are summarily chosen as sacrificial lamb.”

“Cowards,” she said, waving as they oh-so-casually meandered towards the exit. Tosh took a deep breath and set her face into a welcoming smile. Prof. Brown had to be the biggest bore she had ever had the misfortune of meeting – and she counted all the politicians that had crossed her path since she had joined Torchwood – but he had been a damned good teacher.

“My dear Miss Sato.” He caught her hand in his thin, bony one. “Such a pleasure to see you again.”

Now he was closer, Tosh could see the fine tremors that shook his tiny frame. It startled her to realize he was actually an old man. “Professor Brown. It has been quite a while.”

“Indeed. I was not planning to attend, you know, until I read a review copy of your paper. One of the few pleasures of meetings such as this is to sneer at one's colleagues when one's former students manage to show them up. Your paper has put the cat among the pigeons. According to Miss Vaughan, even at her rarified government levels there is... ah... buzz. As a matter of fact, she was hoping to see you tonight.”

Tosh snagged a champagne flute from a passing waiter's tray. “Was she?”

“Positively on tenterhooks, my dear. She's seated in one of those tables over there, with her fiancé.” She offered his arm. “Shall we go?”

She tucked her hand in the crook of his elbow. “Fiancé?”

“Adam Kingsmark. You might not have met him, but he took one of my courses for non-science majors. Trying to impress his beloved, he confided in me, and needing a decent grade. Ah. Here they are.”

Toshiko studied the couple staring into each other's eyes and felt a twinge of envy. Or maybe, she told herself, it was just simply the knowledge that there was little chance she could have what Kathy had obviously found. She loved her life, but there were times, like now, when a small pain lodged herself under her breastbone, and she felt her loneliness like a living thing.

“My dear Miss Vaughan, look who I found.” Professor Brown crowed with delight. “I thought I would bring her to you immediately.”

Kathy Vaughan jumped up, looking delighted. Toshiko gave herself a quick mental shake and smiled back. They did the handshake-and-air-kiss-on-both-cheeks of long ago acquaintances.

“You remember Adam, don't you?”

Tosh started to shake her head, but before she could say anything she found her hand grasped between both of his. Something stirred in her memory and suddenly she was leaning out of her study window, looking towards the river, watching a young man jogging along the towpath.

“You're the runner! I used to watch you from my window. Every morning at seven, rain or shine.” She waggled her champagne flute at Kathy. “You never mentioned the handsome young man I used to babble about was your fiancé.”

Kathy giggled. “Adam and I didn’t really know each other at Uni. We met up again last year in London.” She frowned. “I really want to pick your brains about this paper of yours, Tosh, but I’ve been feeling under the weather all day and it seems to be getting worse. I think I’m for an early night. Can we do lunch tomorrow? There’s nothing scheduled.”

“Lunch it is.”

Toshiko spent the next two hours catching up with people she barely remembered. Amazing, she thought, how success brought the rats out of the woodwork; some of those same people wouldn’t have given her the time of day when she was a student. After careful consideration, she decided to let it amuse her. Professor Brown was basking in his incidental fame, and Toshiko found that she enjoyed his pleasure nearly as much as her own.

Finally the old man set down his glass. “Well, my dear, it has been most entertaining, but it is time for me to go to bed. I am very much looking to your presentation on Monday.”

“Actually,” Tosh said with a giggle, “so am I.”

Toshiko watched him leave, then wandered out into the terrace to admire the gardens in the moonlight. The Elizabethan mansion had been willed to the College by a wealthy alumnus who had had the good taste to convert it to a successful hotel before dying, thus ensuring a healthy income stream for his alma mater. The annual Conference cum alumni reunion always took place in it. She had heard wonderful things about the gardens.

She walked towards the river, following a well-disguised spiral path that made the gardens seems much larger than they really were. She moved among trellises loaded down with heavily scented dark-hued antique roses, past beds crammed with herbs and lined with cockle shells. She peeked into grottoes where statues of gods and goddesses presided over small, tinkling streams that fell into greek amphoras. Every element was exactly what and where it should be.

At some point she came to realize the path was climbing, away from the river, through a small stand of orange-flowering witch hazel and past a miniature knot garden, to come to a dead end in a clearing in front of a folly. As she approached it, she was startled to see someone coming towards her from the other side of the folly, but after a moment she realized that there were tall, narrow mirrors where the walls should be; she had seen herself. Smiling at the joke, the turned away, wondering if she had to go back the long way, then sighing in relief as she noticed a much smaller trail with a discreet signpost reading house.

“I'm glad you came.” Adam Kingsmark stepped out of the folly's shadow. “I didn't know if you would.”

He stopped much too close. Toshiko's instincts were screaming but she couldn't find a reason to move. She looked into his eyes as he reached for her, taking her hands in his.

“The moment I saw you I knew we would be lovers.” His breath caressed her skin as he brought her hands to his lips. “You did too, didn't you?”

Her head nodded, almost against her will. Adam pulled her closer until he could wrap his arms around her. “I will make you happy, Toshiko. Happier than all your previous lovers. Happier than anyone ever will. Take me to your bed, Toshiko.”

Her arm moved to wrap around his waist. Adam smiled down at her and bent down to press his lips to hers. Toshiko could feel her heart beating wildly; there was a feverish hunger building inside her, a craving for Adam, for his touch, for his body. She reached for his head to hurry the kiss.

A deep-throated yowl echoed in the darkness. The sound pierced the fog in Tosh's head and she jumped away from Adam. The ginger cat stalked into the clearing to plant himself in front of Adam, back arched, the tenseness of his body signalling danger in every direction. Adam snarled, his face contorting. The look he gave Toshiko made her step back.

“We are not finished, you and I, Toshiko,” he said as he turned to go back into the shadows. “There is too much between us, too much passion, too much of everything I want.”

The ginger cat hissed, moving to stand by Toshiko. _Pick me up. His kind cannot abide us. We can see them as they truly are_.

She learned down to cradle her in his arms. She could feel the desire turn to panic and suddenly she wanted nothing more than to be safely in her own bed. She ran up the signposted trail, past some startled guests strolling in the terrace, and straight up the stairs. In her arms, the ginger cat purred approvingly.

She fumbled with the old-fashioned key but finally managed to get her door open. Once inside, she simply collapsed, trying to slow her breathing, gain some form of control. Think. She needed to think.

 _They live in mirrors_. The ginger cat growled. _They can use them to hunt. I will stay with you until daylight_.

She stared at him, then opened her tiny evening purse to find her telephone. Hooking the ear piece into place, she tapped a quick sequence.

“Owen? No, I'm not OK. I need help.”


	2. Chapter 2

The rat-tat-tat of frantic knuckles on the door brought Tosh out of a fitful sleep. She started to roll over, then suddenly the memory of the previous night flooded into her mind, and she jerked straight up, looking around in panic. The ginger cat was curled up at the foot of the bed, unblinking eyes fixed on the open bathroom door.   
  
' _Calm yourself. He did not try to visit you_.' There was a brief hesitation. ' _He fed last night.'  
_  
Tosh shivered. She had managed to attend to her evening routine without looking at the bathroom mirror, except for quick glances that had shown her only her own reflection. On the ginger cat's advice, she had thrown one of the extra blankets over the antique cheval mirror that stood by the armoire, and then she had turned the mirror around and pressed the swathed glass against the wall. Only then did she feel safe enough to change into pyjamas and crawl into bed. True to his word, the ginger cat had jumped in after her and stayed the night, his deep, slow breathing lulling her into closing her eyes.  
  
The door rattled. “Miss Sato?”  
  
“Yes.... just a moment.” She jumped out of bed and shrugged into her robe; whoever was on the other side was one second short of hysterical. “Hold on.”  
  
She opened the door to find a young man in police uniform bent over and gasping for air. He looked at her with terrified eyes. “Miss Toshiko Sato?” At her nod, he continued. “Do you know... you were acquainted with Katherine Vaughan?”  
  
Tosh did not miss the were. “Yes, I am.”  
  
“My guv'nor wants to talk to you, then, Miss.”  
  
“I want to talk to your guv'nor myself. Hold on, let me throw something on.”   
  
She dashed to the armoire and grabbed what she considered her Torchwood uniform: black trousers, red jumper, black leather jacket, and high-heeled boots. He put her ankle holster on and put her ID in her back pocket. The cat watched her, his amber eyes full of sardonic cat humor. She stuck her tongue out at him.  
  
' _My thanks for your assistance. Will you return later?_ '  
  
 _'If I see anything you need to know. You better go with the kitten outside. He sounds about to pee himself._ '  
  
Laughing, Tosh held the door open for him and watched him sashay down the corridor, then turned to the young policeman. “Let's go, Sergeant.”  
  
They went up one flight of stairs and down a short corridor. People milled around, most looking shocked. The last door on the left stood open, but there was an uniformed constable blocking the way. She looked green around the gills.  
  
“This is Miss Sato,” her escort told her.  
  
“I’ll get DI Sullivan,” she said, looking over her shoulder uneasily.  
  
“Why don’t I just go in?” Tosh suggested.  
  
A tall, rather handsome dark-haired man appeared in the doorway. “Because civilians are not allowed in crime scenes,” he said. “You can just identify the body when the medical people remove it. It’s just a formality.”  
  
Toshiko took out her Torchwood id and flipped it open under his nose. “Why don’t I just go in?” she repeated gently.  
  
The two constables stared at her as if she had grown an extra head. The detective Inspector examined the card carefully and then stepped aside. Toshiko caught the flicker of annoyance in his eyes as she passed him. For a brief moment she felt the need to smooth things over; then she decided to hell with it.  
  
“Don’t worry, DI. Torchwood doesn’t want your case…. yet.” She looked around. “Have you found her fiancé?” When he didn’t answer she sighed. “Look. You can answer my questions and you’ll end up with a commendation and a nice chance at promotion. Or you can be obstructionist and you’ll be picking up drunks on Broad Street until you’re sixty.”  
  
He grimaced. “No fiancé. In fact, nobody remembers seeing him except with her.”  
  
“Not surprising.” She studied the room. “But he was here last night. Champagne, two flutes, fruit, cheese. No migraine, then.”  
  
“Migraine?”  
  
“Last night at the party she told me she had a migraine and wanted to go to bed early. Obviously an excuse.” She shivered. “I wonder… The body is in the bedroom?”  
  
“Yeah. Listen,” he touched her arm. “It’s pretty ugly in there.”  
  
Tosh laughed. “I’m Torchwood, DI Sullivan. You can’t imagine some of the things I’ve seen.”  
  
“No, I suppose not. But this… do the nightmares ever go away?”  
  
“No that you’d notice, no.” She shrugged. “You learn to cope.”  
  
She made a slight gesture towards the bedroom. He led the way, hesitating once more on the doorway, then straightening his shoulders and marching in like someone being led to the firing squad. Tosh followed, ignoring the curious stares of the cops and the forensic men.  
  
The romantic atmosphere was even more pronounced in the bedroom. There were crystal vases full of red roses everywhere and tall seven-armed candelabra flanked the fireplace. An elaborate Victorian birdcage with two doves had been placed on the mantel. The four-poster bed had been made up with very expensive Irish linen and lace bedding and piled high with satin pillows. To one side of the bed, placed so that the bed was clearly reflected, was an antique cheval mirror similar to the one in Tosh's room.  
  
Propped up among them was Katherine Vaughan's desiccated corpse. She looked to be a thousand years old dead and buried, like a mummy whose wrappings had been removed, skin leathery and brown, her shoulder-length hair grown into a curtain that shrouded her torso. The nails in both hands and feet had grown as long as those of a mandarin prince and curled upwards. Her face was peaceful.  
  
Tosh took a deep breath and approached the bed. The medical examiner glared at her but DI Sullivan shook his head and mouthed Torchwood. The other man glared but said nothing.   
  
“Gloves, please.” The technician handed her a pair of latex gloves and she put them on and examined the skin of Katherine's face and hands. 'Temperature?”  
  
“Ah...” The technician said. “We don't think...”  
  
“Dead for at least four days, right?” Tosh said, then made an impatient gesture at the two medical men. “No, your instruments are not malfunctioning.”  
  
“Then maybe Torchwood can explain how a woman who was seen having drinks with you last night at around nine p.m. has been dead for four days?” DI Sullivan nearly snarled. “Because the rest of us are still trying to catch up.”  
  
“Whatever killed her accelerated her cellular aging. That's not just retraction of the skin around her nails. Katherine's body aged nearly sixty years in one night.”  
  
“Nothing I know of can do that.” The medical examiner, whose coat had the name Forbes neatly stitched over the left pocket, said. “No illness or drug.”  
  
Tosh nodded. “Exactly. No human or natural agency did this, Doctor Forbes.” She looked around the room again, then approached the bird cage. ' _Did you see what happened here, little ones?'_  
  
The male looked down his beak at her but the female answered readily enough, ' _The he and she mated. Then the she was like that. The he left through the frozen water_.'   
  
“You are a speaker-to-animals?” demanded DI Sullivan.  
  
Tosh nodded. “They say the Katherine and her fiancé made love then she was dead and he left.”   
  
The thought of the mirror had her turning towards it. In that split second she caught a glimpse of Adam, face distorted with rage, heaving something towards the glass.   
  
“Out! Out!” She put as much authority in her voice as she could, while at the same time she grabbed DI Sullivan's arm and dragged him with her. “Now!”   
  
They ran into the sitting room. Behind them, glass shattered. Something inhaled loudly, and they felt the air around them being sucked out of the room; then the exhale, a nearly silent whoosh followed by a blast of heat that sent them sprawling. Tosh’s breath was knocked out of her as DI Sullivan landed on top of her. After a few seconds he rolled off to lie on his back next to her. They looked at each other and then burst into laughter.  
  
“I should have asked you what kind of help you needed.”  
  
Tosh looked up and met Owen’s eyes. She expected amusement but what she found was blankness marred only by a faint impatience. It was Owen’s _why the hell did you bother me?_ look. She took a determined hold on her own temper.  
  
“Not the kind you’re thinking of, obviously.” She giggled as she stood up. “DI Sullivan, this is Doctor and Healer Owen Harper. He will be able to tell us more about…. Kathy.”  
  
“If there’s any left after that.” Sullivan pointed over his shoulder at the bedroom. “It sounded like the world was coming to an end in there.”  
  
This time Tosh and Owen laughed together. “Not even close,” Owen said. “ What did you run into, Tosh?”  
  
“Some sort of revenant that lives in mirrors. He is able to alter memories if he is very close to his target.”  
  
“Yours?”  
  
“Fine, thank you. His only improvement was to make me believe I knew him at college. Myself, Anamaria Gonzalves, and professor Brown. He was making himself a place in Kathy's circle.” She frowned. “At first.”  
  
“And then he went after you.” Owen said.  
  
“Yes. Something about me... he said I had too much of everything he wanted.” She looked at him helplessly. “Too much passion.”  
  
She felt his arms come around her and relaxed into the hug. Her best friend. She loved the faint lemony scent of his aftershave and the way his chin rested on her head. She could trust him to the end of the world and back. She felt a little bereft when he pushed her away gently.  
  
“Did you get any sense of his age, Tosh? Is he a newborn?”  
  
She thought about it. New revenants were destructive, but much easier to manage than the ancient ones, grown wise in their wickedness. She thought about what she had been able to sense in the garden, when Adam's rage had opened him up to her.  
  
“He's very old, Owen. Older than any we've faced before.”


	3. Chapter 3

“They are called craving revenants,” Jack said. “Though they're not really reanimated corpses. In some folk tales they're called _thirsty ghosts_.”  
  
They were sitting in a large conference room commandeered by DI Sullivan – whose first name was, of all things, Alaric – drinking Ianto's coffee, which he had produced like a magician producing rabbits out of a hat. DI Sullivan had take one sip and decided that if Torchwood could produce such ambrosia, its nasty reputation had been greatly exaggerated. Tosh was unwilling to disabuse him of the notion.  
  
“They are incredibly rare,” Ianto said as if speaking about an orchid. “The last documented one was destroyed in eighteen ninety eight by Torchwood Scotland. It took three exorcisms and the destruction of every mirror in Kenwood House.”  
  
“How are they...” DI Sullivan hesitated, “born?”  
  
Jack held out his cup for a refill. “Best that we can tell, they are the souls of people who have spent their mortal years practicing particularly vicious forms of self-denial, either through fear or pride.”  
  
“Exaggeration of virtue being one of the demonic temptations,” Sullivan, a good practicing Celt, said, “they would be damned.”  
  
“Perhaps. But what seems to happen is that at their moment of death their thirst for whatever form of human experience they denied themselves explodes into overwhelming desire. Their souls are trapped in this plane, trying to satisfy it. Except they can't.”  
  
“That's what I felt from Adam Kingsmark. Endless craving.” Tosh shivered. “Jack, the cat said that they live in mirrors.”  
  
“It’s more that they can use mirrors to attach themselves to a living person. Then they can use that person’s energy to create a flesh and blood body for themselves.”   
  
Tosh gave a small bleat of distress. “That’s what happened to Kathy, then. Adam used her to…”  
  
She couldn’t go on. Ianto put his arm around her and she relaxed into his embrace. They had arrived less than two hours after Owen's call. Tosh had giggled herself into hiccoughs at the look on DI Sullivan's face as the black unmarked helicopter hovered over the tennis court and Jack and Ianto had dropped lightly to the ground in best paratrooper fashion.   
  
“Do we know anything about Adam Kingsmark?” asked DI Sullivan.  
  
“We should by now,” Jack said. “Tosh?”  
  
Tosh pushed a few buttons in the tablet pc propped up in the table in front of her and a holographic screen appeared above it. She grinned at the policeman’s muttered _whoa_. The screen glowed green for a moment, then the image resolved into a view of the Hub with Gwen and Andy in the foreground. They both looked at Tosh with concern.  
  
“Are you alright, cariad?” Andy asked.  
  
“I’m fine,” she answered him and smiled to see nearly matching expressions of doubt on their faces. “Really. What did you find about Adam Kingsmark?”  
  
“Sir Adam Kingsmark,” Gwen said with a snort, “ was the master of a small manor and farm, Kingsmark Chase, near Frilforth Heath, not too far from Oxford. Born in 1789. Became a lay brother in an odd offshoot of an obscure flagellant order founded by one Dominic Loricatus. We found a diary from the local priest. The poor man was utterly horrified by Sir Adam’s practices. Lashes every day during prayer, wearing a hairshirt woven out of thistles, sleeping only three hours a day, eating only bread and milk, except on Sundays when he allowed himself two slices of roast beef. Oh, and never speaking to a woman. Ever. Once he flew into a rage because the widow of one of his tenants tried to speak to him and he slashed her with a whip.”  
  
“Ugh,” Jack said. “So what happened?”  
  
“It seems that Sir Adam was thrown from a horse. He was badly hurt, and called for the priest to administer last rites. Whatever he said horrified the priest. He didn’t write it down, of course, but he did say that he returned everyday to pray at Sir Adam’s bedside. And then there is total silence, except for a brief note about the burial service.”  
  
“And that’s when it gets really interesting.” Andy jumped in. “The property was inherited by Sir Adam’s sister, Lady Alaina de Bloix and her husband. Strange things started happening at Kingsmark Chase almost immediately. Lady Alaina’s favorite maid died in what was described in the parish register as consumption but rumors were that she had thrown herself off an attic window to escape something or someone. Then one of Lady Alaina’s daughters nearly drowned in her bath. Finally the family sold the property and left. Kingsmark Chase changed hands ten times in fifty years. The last owner, Oswald March, burned it down after his daughter was found dead in her bed.”  
  
“That wouldn’t have destroyed him,” DI Sullivan said.  
  
“No,” Jack confirmed. “He just waited until he could attach himself to someone and start all over again.”  
  
Owen had been listening, slouching in an armchair by the window, one hand twirling a pen. “So how do we kill it?”  
  
Tosh looked at him, surprised by the cold, vicious tone. She hadn't heard Owen sound like that in a long time. He sounded the same way he had done the first time she had met him, when Jack had brought him to the Hub after Katie's death.  
  
'Technically, we don't,” Jack said. “We need to send him on.”  
  
“You mean you have to send him on.” Owen almost snarled. “Oh, all right, don't all look at me like I've shot your puppies. What do you want me to do?”  
  
“Talk to the forensic team. Sometimes the solution is both material and spiritual.”  
  
Owen nodded and stalked out, not looking at Tosh. She felt somehow bereft. They had become good friends since the Diane Holmes episode. It wasn't an easy relationship like she had with Ianto, Andy, or Gwen, but she had come to rely on him. She heard Gwen start to speak again and dragged her attention back to the screen.  
  
“According to some reports we found in a local paper, Kingsmark Chase was recently used as a training site for archaeology and anthropology students from Oxford.”   
  
A picture of a group of students in shorts, t-shirts, and boots, grinning happily at the camera, filled the screen. Tosh pointed at one of the older adults in the back. “That’s Kathy. Well, Professor Vaughan.”  
  
“The reports say that they dug up several cellars and salvaged a number of household items. The list we found includes three mirrors, two hand-held and one full-size standing one.”  
  
“Do we know what happened to the mirrors?” Jack asked.  
  
“The Archaeological Museum in Oxford,” Andy said. “I’ve contacted them and explained the problem. Kathy has contacted her counterpart at the Bishop’s court there. The mirrors will be delivered to you as soon as the Bishop’s investigators can pack them. I warned them about looking.”  
  
“Good. Keep looking for something, anything, we can use against him.” Tosh caught Gwen’s hesitation, as did Jack. “What is it, Gwen?”  
  
“I was wondering… we Celts don’t have many stories of revenants, but those we do seem to say they can be controlled by symbols. Or the physical representation of symbols. Adam Kingsmark was a Catholic, and there’s no indication he died apostate…”  
  
“Remind me to give you a raise, Gwen,” Jack said, blowing her a kiss. “Or at least a nice wedding present. “Ianto…”  
  
“There’s a church near here. St. Giles, I think.”  
  
“Go. Sullivan, I have some chalk in our kit. Until Ianto comes back we can make do. Tosh, let’s go to your room first. We’ll secure it and then you can go to sleep for a while. You look worn out.”  
  
She started to deny it, but then nodded. “Yes. I’d like that.”  
  
She led the way. When they got to her suite, Jack had her wait outside while he and Sullivan walked around the rooms. When she was finally allowed in, she saw that Jack had used white chalk to draw large, thick crosses on all the reflecting surfaces. The cheval mirror had been quartered and a cross drawn on each quarter. Then Jack replaced the blanket. He turned to Tosh. Taking what she realized was a rosary from his pocket, he put it over her head like a necklace.  
  
“Don’t take this off. Between it and the crosses, you should protect you for now. Take a shower. I’ll send someone with a hot drink.” He kissed her forehead. “Come on, Sullivan. How many officers can you drag into this. Preferably Christians. Pagans can’t put any psychic strength behind these symbols, at least not a positive one.”  
  
As they left, Sullivan was on the phone, barking orders. Setting the shower as hot as she could stand it, Tosh chucked off her clothes, tossing them in every direction, and stepped under the stream. She scrubbed her skin until it felt raw, but she couldn’t quite get the feel of Adam Kingsmark off. Finally she turned off the water and patted herself dry. Her skin was streaked red, and she knew if she left it like that she would bloom into bruises.   
  
Sighing, she pulled some lotion out of her sponge bag and slathered herself with it. As she reached her neck, her hands encountered the rosary. It felt ancient under her fingers, and almost alive. She had the sense of great strength but also of great gentleness and an implacable will. The raised it to her lips and kissed the beads.  
  
She padded into the bedroom in the nude. She didn’t want even one stitch of fabric between herself and her expensive cotton sheets. As she was starting to drift off, he heard a soft knock on the door.  
  
“Miss Sato? Captain Harkness sent me. I have some hot chocolate, freshly made.”  
  
Tosh sat up, holding the duvet in front of her to protect her modesty. “Come in.”  
  
A tall, auburn-headed girl in the hotel’s uniform came in, carrying a silver tray with a tall mug and a plate of biscuits. She smiled at Tosh as she put the tray on the bedside table. She picked up the mug and held it out to Tosh.  
  
“Hotel’s compliments, Miss. Our bartender has a nice sideline in hot drinks.”  
  
“Thank you.”  
  
Tosh accepted the mug and sipped. It really was good, sweet with a bitter aftertaste that was like almonds, but not quite. She smiled at the girl.  
  
“Quite good,” she said   
  
Suddenly she began to fold forward, head hanging heavy. Dizziness overwhelmed her. She felt the girl take the mug out of her hands and push her back into the bed. She managed to lift her eyelids enough to see the girl pull the blanket from the mirror and wipe off the crosses. She moaned in protest as Adam Kingsmark stepped into the room.  
  
“Hello, Tosh.”  
  
  



	4. Chapter 4

“Don't waste energy in trying to move,” Adam said. “The chocolate you drank is my own recipe. Flavored with a mixture of bitter almond milk and a couple of other ingredients. Paralysis is nearly instantaneous. You,” he said to the hotel clerk in a condescending voice, “stand right there.”  
  
His fingers tangled in her hair and she couldn't suppress a shiver. His skin was cold, the kind of cold that would seep down into the core of anything he touched. She forced her eyes open enough to see the hotel girl freeze in place as if she were a puppet. Perhaps she was, Tosh thought, and wanted to scream. That's what he does to us, turns us into puppets.  
  
“You don't like me, do you, Tosh?” Suddenly the hand tightened on her hair and her head was yanked back painfully. Tears seeped through her eyelids as he yanked once again. “Then you shouldn't have interfered! Kathy was under control until she saw you. Then it was all _Tosh this_ and _Tosh that_ and _I can't wait to talk to Tosh_. Filthy, vile women!”  
  
His face was close enough for her to smell his breath, but there was nothing, no smell, no warmth. She wondered how Kathy could have tolerated it. Then she wondered if this was how Kathy had ended her days, paralyzed and at the whim of a mad ghost.  
  
Adam leered as he released her hair. “Now let's see what you're hiding.”  
  
He tore the bed covers away. Tosh felt her arms fall away to the side. Nothing she tried, no matter how hard she tried, would make them move. He felt Adam's hand on her shoulder and she was terrified that if her stomach revolted she would choke in her own vomit. She had to hold on, she thought, just until Jack and Ianto came back. They _would_ come back.   
  
Suddenly Adam reeled away from her and she felt blessedly free of the loathsome icy fingers. “What the hell is that?” He screeched with fear, face contorting. “What is it?”  
  
He lunged at her, snatching at the rosary around her neck. The smell of burning flesh filled her nostrils, making her gag again. Adam jumped back, sucking at his fingers, then spitting as skin and flesh came away in his mouth.   
  
“Bitch!” He grabbed at the girl standing by the mirror and pushed her towards the bed. “Take it from her!”  
  
The girl moved jerkily, eyes vacant. She grabbed at the rosary; Tosh felt her nails scratch as she took a solid grip. She prayed as she had never prayed before, as she didn't think she knew how, in every language she knew, to every God she could remember, and she was answered by the girl's terrified wail. Suddenly she seemed to come to life, jumping backwards to get away from whatever in the rosary had torn the illusion from her eyes.  
  
“Shut up!” Adam grabbed the girl's shoulder and shook her roughly. “Shut up and do as you're told!”  
  
The wailing got louder and louder as the girl fought to free herself from his grip. Cursing, he slapped her, then grabbed at her neck, pushing her against the wall. The situation was spinning out of his control, and Tosh realized he wasn't rational enough to get it back. She shivered. An out-of-control revenant could wreak havoc for miles around.  
  
She watched helplessly as the girl lost her fight and crumpled to the ground. Adam looked at Tosh, grinning, and leaned down to touch his hand to the girl's face. Her body jerked. Tosh wanted to scream in frustration, but she could not look away as the girl's mouth opened in a soundless scream and blood began to seep from her mouth, eyes, and nose. Tosh had to fight her gag reflex again as Adam bent to lick at it with the tip of his tongue, much like a cat tasting milk.  
  
“She'll keep,” he said, standing up. “Now Tosh, what am I going to do about you?”  
  
“You're going to stay the hell away from her,” a voice said from the bathroom door, and there was a sound of glass breaking. “Or I will make sure you have no afterlife at all.”  
  
Tosh couldn't turn, couldn't see, but she knew what Owen's face looked like from the sudden stillness in Adam's own. He took an involuntary step backwards, then several more as the front door slammed open and Jack, Ianto, and DI Sullivan rushed in.   
  
At a sign from Jack, Sullivan ran to the girl on the floor and gave her a quick check. He nodded to Jack. She'll make it.”  
  
Adam ran to the mirror, only to howl in terror as his hand met a solid surface.  
  
“All other doorways are sealed,” Jack said. “If you re-enter the mirror, you will be trapped inside forever.”  
  
Adam snarled. “You can't stop me!”  
  
“But we have. This is the extent of your world now. You can re-enter the mirror and stay there or you can choose to move on.” Jack stepped close. “It's not so bad, you know.”  
  
“I don't want to!” The howl was that of a terrified child. “Don't you understand? I gave up my life, I gave up everything, every joy, to the glory of God, and he threw it all back in my face.”  
  
“What happened?” Ianto asked, drawing Adam's attention to himself.   
  
“I wanted... I wanted so much... but it was unclean. Unclean! So I crushed it under the lash and offered it to God , put my flesh and my blood on his altar. And he refused them! Refused them,” He repeated, this time almost as if to himself. “I lay in that bed, back broken from the fall, and I knew God was rejecting me.”  
  
Tosh could hear the pain and horror in his voice and felt unexpectedly, desperately sorry for the revenant. Christianity had a way of turning in on itself to produce saints and madmen. If Adam Kingsmark's mind had been stronger and better balanced, or if he had found proper guidance, he would have been the first and not the second.  
  
“God does not reject a true penitent,” Jack said gently. “It was your own fear speaking.”  
  
“No! He told me, he said... And the priest prayed for four days, and could find no forgiveness for me. All I wanted was for him to say that God would accept me, that he wouldn't turn me away and all he could do was mouth platitudes!” He smashed his fist against the glass, then pulled away in panic as he felt it start to flex. “I want to know! ”  
  
“None of us know,” Jack said, moving few paces closer. “We must trust.”  
  
Adam nearly whimpered. “You don't understand. But why should you? You don't control your lusts. I know about you and him!” He pointed to Ianto. “Kathy told me all about it. Vile. Filthy. And yet you are not marked as children of the beast. You aren't damned, and I am!” The voice rose to a wail. “And it's not fair!”  
  
Tosh felt tears pour down her face. She was starting to get some feeling back on her arms and legs, a million pins stabbing directly into her nerves. The pain of it mixed with the grief she felt for Adam and the embarrassment she felt at the display she made, naked and immobile on the bed, until it all boiled over into uncontrollable weeping.  
  
She felt the bed behind her shift and then a pair of masculine arms came around her. She recognized the long, agile surgeon's fingers immediately.  
  
“Shhhhsh,” Owen whispered. “Even if it hurts like hell, you need to keep quiet. Jack and Ianto will keep him busy. We found the pot the girl used to make the chocolate, so I know what I need to do.”  
  
One of the hands hovered over her heart and then settled. Oh, he was warm, so warm. Tosh could feel his pulse racing a little as the fingers searched for the curve of her breast and then spread, pressing gently into her flesh. She managed to stifle a moan as a gentle current flowed from his fingertips, growing stronger and stronger until a flood of energy swept through her. That was his Healer's touch, she realized, and she sank back against his chest, smiling as she felt his cheek rest gently on top of her head.   
  
And suddenly she knew, and her heart soared in spite of the pain. _You're mine, Owen Harper. You're going to lead me a merry chase, but you're mine._  
  
As if she had spoken out loud, Adam whipped his head towards her. His scream of rage filled the room. “Stay away from her!”  
  
Owen made a sound suspiciously like a raspberry and Tosh giggled. The sudden sound filled the room and DI Sullivan responded to it. He laughed too, a strained sound but nevertheless a laugh. Adam howled in anger and tried to move towards the bed, but Jack and Ianto stepped in his way. Owen used his other hand to bring the blankets up to cover Tosh to her neck.  
  
“No,” he said, calmly. “You cannot have her.”  
  
Adam turned back to Jack. “I can't.” His voice was defiant. “I won't.”  
  
Jack nodded. “And I am sorry, Adam Kingsmark. Sorry that you suffered, sorry that you doubt. But you cannot continue to hurt the innocent, to take from the living.”  
  
“I will take what I want!” Adam snarled, throwing himself at them, hands extended. “Tosh, come here!”  
  
Tosh felt the power in his voice, and she knew that under other circumstances she may have obeyed. But now, Owen's arms around her and her newfound knowledge in her heart, it seemed to glance off her. She turned her face into Owen's shoulder and he tightened his grip. She heard Adam scream her name again but didn't look at him.  
  
“No,” Jack said to Adam calmly. “You cannot have her. Or anyone else. Ever again.”  
  
Adam screamed, a wordless howl that ended in a sort of moan that went on and on. Tosh couldn't bring herself to look in his direction. The moan died into a kind of gurgle that made her shudder.  
  
“It's over,” she heard Owen whisper. “You can look now.”  
  
Tosh saw Jack and Ianto at the mirror. Ianto had as aspergillum and was sprinkling the mirror as he recited a prayer under his breath; wherever the holy water touched, the glass twisted and smoked. Jack was painting symbols all over the wood. DI Sullivan was speaking rapidly into his phone. She heard running feet outside.  
  
“What will happen now?” she asked.  
  
Owen understood what she was really asking. “Myfanwy. He is unrepentant, so the fire will destroy him.”  
  
She shuddered again, but nodded. Adam would be gone, and that's all she cared about.  
  
“You and I,” she said, not looking at Owen, “need to talk.”  
  
“Do we?” His voice was unsteady, but she could hear the laughter being held back. “Ianto usually handles debriefings.”  
  
She giggled. “Not this one. You're not his type.”  
  
“Am I yours?”  
  
“Oh yes. You're mine.”


	5. Chapter 5

Tosh fluffed the cushions on one of the sofas. “All right, you two. Sit over here.”  
  
Gwen and Rhys looked at each other and grinned. They had walked into Jack and Ianto's flat to the sounds of the Wedding March and applause from Tosh, Owen, Andy, and Rhiannon. Dinner had been spectacular, even by Ianto standards, and now the heavenly scent of coffee was coming from the kitchen. Everyone settled down, chatting easily, comfortable in each other's company.  
  
A few minutes later Jack and Ianto came out of the kitchen carrying a coffee service in a silver tray and a small two-tier gateau with a bride and groom on the top. Setting them on the large ottoman that served as a coffee table, they poured and passed the coffee. Ianto presented Gwen with the cake knife. Laughing, she cut thick slices and passed them around.  
  
“This is nice,” Rhys sighed. “It's been so crazy with all the wedding preparations and trying to find a place, people traipsing in and out of the flat...” His voice trailed off. “It's just nice.”  
  
“Aine is with my godmother for the night. I should feel guilty for handing her over, I guess, but Goddess, I needed an adult night.”  
  
Rhiannon laughed. “Oh, yes. Those are essential for your sanity. Especially when there's more than one kiddie around.” She waved her hand at Gwen's horrified expression. “I'm not clairvoyant, Gwen. But you two want more children, don't you?”  
  
“Well, yes,” Gwen said, “just not until we can settle down. Aine is a handful all by herself.”  
  
“So how's the house hunting going?” asked Owen, who was sitting on the floor next to Tosh's armchair. It had not escaped anyone’s notice that they had arrived together and were never very far from each other. “How many places have you looked at?”  
  
“I've lost count,” Rhys grumbled. “Every blessed one had something wrong with it, according to Gwen.”  
  
“I am not buying a house,” Gwen said in the weary tones of a woman who has said the same thing over and over, “until I find the right one. It has to have a nice yard for Aine and,” she giggled, pointing at Rhiannon, “whoever comes next. And space for that whoever. And maybe some space for us when we need to step away from the craziness of our lives.”  
  
Jack and Ianto looked at each other. Ianto nodded. Jack reached for a fat envelope resting on one of the side tables.  
  
“About that… we wondered if this one would suit.”  
  
Gwen took the envelope. Reaching inside, she pulled out a set of keys in an old-fashioned key ring.  
  
“Jack? Ianto?”  
  
Jack settled down in his favorite armchair and Ianto perched on the arm, ready for the second round of coffee. “It’s been standing empty for a while, Gwen. I want to make a new life here, with Ianto, but I don’t want it to go to strangers, either.”  
  
Rhys was reading through a sheaf of legal papers. “But you’re just giving it to us!”  
  
“Tax deduction,” quipped Ianto.  
  
Everyone laughed. Gwen jumped up and threw her arms around Ianto, then Jack. She tried to say something but nothing came out. She shook her head and sat back down, burying her face in Rhys’s shoulder.  
  
“Today is a very special day,” intoned Owen, “for today Gwen Cooper-Williams was made speechless.”  
  
This time the laughter was raucous. Finally, Andy got himself under control.  
  
“Jack worked with someone to do one room, but the rest is down to bare white walls. I’ve been going crazy thinking of a present, so when Jack told me about the house, I talked to Rhiannon and we decided we could pool our talents and cover that part for you. Designer and decorating services, that sort of thing.”  
  
Gwen, head still firmly ensconced in Rhys’s shoulder, made a little moaning sound and waved a hand in their direction. Rhys had to take a gulp of coffee before managing to speak. “Cheers, everyone.”  
  
“Not done yet.” Owen said, offering him a long, flat envelope. “Tosh and I decided to partner up too. She did it all, so if you don’t like it, blame it on her.”  
  
“I know you’d already decided to go to Venice,” Tosh said, “so I worked with your travel agent to upgrade it a little, that’s all.”  
  
Gwen lifted her head, looking at Tosh through narrowed eyes. “Miss Bespoke-Shoes-that-Cost-Two-Month’s-Sala

ry just upgraded us a little? Let me see that.” She pulled out the documents and flipped through them. “Tosh… this is…. Oooh, Rhys, look. A resort hotel in its own private island… our own gondola… a weekend cruise to Greece! Ooooh…”

“Success,” Owen said to Tosh, setting everybody off again.

They sat around for a while, drinking coffee and eating cake, until Ianto, sighing, stood up and took the plate out of Gwen’s hand. “Go.”

“Ianto…”

“You,” he said severely, “are dying to go test those keys. It’s going to keep you up until you pull Rhys out of bed at three in the morning to drive to Pontcanna. It is unfair to put the groom in danger of murdering the bride. Go!”

Rhiannon set down her own plate. “Would you like some company? We could talk about the color schemes, fabrics…” She giggled as she found herself being towed to the door. “I guess you do.”

Rhys and Andy followed the two women, laughing helplessly. Owen looked at Tosh.

“Well, since the party’s breaking up, Tosh, can I drop you off at home?”

Ianto sighed again. “And you are trying too hard to be all casual and nonchalant. When you decide which flat you’re keeping, let me know so I can get the address changes into the records in time for the next payroll audit.” He hugged Tosh, who was blushing to the roots of her hair. “Silly. Don’t you know how happy we are for both of you?”

“It’s just that it’s so new, so strong,” she whispered. “We want to keep it to ourselves for a little while.”

Jack put his arm around her and kissed her temple. “We won’t say anything, but I don’t think you realize how much it shows. You both look truly happy.” He turned to Owen and pulled him into a hug. “And if you hurt her I’ll hunt you down.”

“Oi! What would you do if she hurt me?”

“The same thing, of course.” He shepherded his stunned subordinates to the door. “Go home, you two, and don’t rush in tomorrow morning.”

He returned to the living room to find Ianto sitting on the rug in front of the fire. He knelt behind him, dropping a kiss on the exposed nape.

“Tired?”

“Not really. Just... thinking.”

“Penny?”

“It’s silly. I’m thinking about Rhiannon.”

“You’re worried about Andy?”

Ianto shifted until he was comfortable and patted his legs invitingly. “Andy’s a good bloke. It’s just that, after Canary Wharf, I thought she would be shut of Torchwood. And here she is again, right in the middle of it.”

Jack stretched out on the rug, laying his head on Ianto’s lap. “I can see why it would bother you.”

Ianto combed his fingers through Jack’s hair. “Do you know what I love the most about you?” He laughed at Jack’s lewd smirk. “Besides that. You always see what the problem is.”

“Nothing more annoying that someone saying _I really can’t see what the problem is_ in a condescending tone. It always reminds me of talking to the Whitehall boffins.” He grabbed Ianto’s hand and kissed the palm. “Come down here with me.”

Ianto grabbed one of the throw pillows. “Move over a little.”

After a few false starts and a bit of wriggling they managed to find a comfortable position. Jack lay on his back, head on the pillow, with Ianto cuddled up to his side, head on Jack’s shoulder, right arm around Jack’s chest and right leg over Jack’s thighs.

“We always end up in the same position no matter what we do,” Ianto laughed. “Are we getting into a routine here?”

“There are routines and there are routines,” Jack said, pressing a kiss on Ianto’s temple. “I like this one. Peaceful.”

They drowsed a little, content in each other. Jack’s hands stroked and petted over Ianto’s skin almost of their own volition. He couldn’t remember ever being so happy. He had no illusions about having a safe and peaceful life, but he would deal with everything that got thrown at Torchwood as long as he could have moments like this.

Ianto made a little snuffling noise and burrowed his face into Jack's neck. The sound acted faster than a hedge witch's aphrodisiac. Jack groaned softly and shifted to make himself more comfortable. He was an adult, dammit, he could control his urges. Ianto snuffled again and moved so his cock was pressing against Jack's hip. Jack started to shift away again then realized Ianto was a hard as he was.

“You little monster. You're awake.”

“Correction. I'm awake and I'm horny.” Ianto rolled over. “Do something about it.”

Jack laughed low in his throat. “Your wish is my command.”


End file.
